The man they were escorting did not in the least correspond with the conception everyone has of a tramp. He was a frail7 little man, weak and sickly-looking, with small, colourless, and extremely indefinite features. His eyebrows8 were scanty, his expression mild and submissive; he had scarcely a trace of a moustache, though he was over thirty. He walked along timidly, bent9 forward, with his hands thrust into his sleeves. The collar of his shabby cloth overcoat, which did not look like a peasant’s, was turned up to the very brim of his cap, so that only his little red nose ventured to peep out into the light of day. He spoke10 in an ingratiating tenor11, continually coughing. It was very, very difficult to believe that he was a tramp concealing13 his surname. He was more like an unsuccessful priest’s son, stricken by God and reduced to beggary; a clerk discharged for drunkenness; a merchant’s son or nephew who had tried his feeble powers in a theatrical14 career, and was now going home to play the last act in the parable15 of the prodigal16 son; perhaps, judging by the dull patience with which he struggled with the hopeless autumn mud, he might have been a fanatical monk17, wandering from one Russian monastery18 to another, continually seeking “a peaceful life, free from sin,” and not finding it . . .
The travellers had been a long while on their way, but they seemed to be always on the same small patch of ground. In front of them there stretched thirty feet of muddy black-brown mud, behind them the same, and wherever one looked further, an impenetrable wall of white fog. They went on and on, but the ground remained the same, the wall was no nearer, and the patch on which they walked seemed still the same patch. They got a glimpse of a white, clumsy-looking stone, a small ravine, or a bundle of hay dropped by a passer-by, the brief glimmer19 of a great muddy puddle20, or, suddenly, a shadow with vague outlines would come into view ahead of them; the nearer they got to it the smaller and darker it became; nearer still, and there stood up before the wayfarers21 a slanting22 milestone23 with the number rubbed off, or a wretched birch-tree drenched25 and bare like a wayside beggar. The birch-tree would whisper something with what remained of its yellow leaves, one leaf would break off and float lazily to the ground. . . . And then again fog, mud, the brown grass at the edges of the road. On the grass hung dingy26, unfriendly tears. They were not the tears of soft joy such as the earth weeps at welcoming the summer sun and parting from it, and such as she gives to drink at dawn to the corncrakes, quails27, and graceful28, long-beaked crested29 snipes. The travellers’ feet stuck in the heavy, clinging mud. Every step cost an effort.
Andrey Ptaha was somewhat excited. He kept looking round at the tramp and trying to understand how a live, sober man could fail to remember his name.
“You are an orthodox Christian30, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” the tramp answered mildly.
“H’m . . . then you’ve been christened?”
“Why, to be sure! I’m not a Turk. I go to church and to the sacrament, and do not eat meat when it is forbidden. And I observe my religious duties punctually. . . . ”
“Well, what are you called, then?”
“Call me what you like, good man.”
Ptaha shrugged31 his shoulders and slapped himself on the haunches in extreme perplexity. The other constable1, Nikandr Sapozhnikov, maintained a staid silence. He was not so naive32 as Ptaha, and apparently33 knew very well the reasons which might induce an orthodox Christian to conceal12 his name from other people. His expressive34 face was cold and stern. He walked apart and did not condescend35 to idle chatter36 with his companions, but, as it were, tried to show everyone, even the fog, his sedateness37 and discretion38.
“God knows what to make of you,” Ptaha persisted in addressing the tramp. “Peasant you are not, and gentleman you are not, but some sort of a thing between. . . . The other day I was washing a sieve39 in the pond and caught a reptile40 — see, as long as a finger, with gills and a tail. The first minute I thought it was a fish, then I looked — and, blow it! if it hadn’t paws. It was not a fish, it was a viper41, and the deuce only knows what it was. . . . So that’s like you. . . . What’s your calling?”
“I am a peasant and of peasant family,” sighed the tramp. “My mamma was a house serf. I don’t look like a peasant, that’s true, for such has been my lot, good man. My mamma was a nurse with the gentry42, and had every comfort, and as I was of her flesh and blood, I lived with her in the master’s house. She petted and spoiled me, and did her best to take me out of my humble43 class and make a gentleman of me. I slept in a bed, every day I ate a real dinner, I wore breeches and shoes like a gentleman’s child. What my mamma ate I was fed on, too; they gave her stuffs as a present, and she dressed me up in them.. .. We lived well! I ate so many sweets and cakes in my childish years that if they could be sold now it would be enough to buy a goo d horse. Mamma taught me to read and write, she instilled44 the fear of God in me from my earliest years, and she so trained me that now I can’t bring myself to utter an unrefined peasant word. And I don’t drink vodka, my lad, and am neat in my dress, and know how to behave with decorum in good society. If she is still living, God give her health; and if she is dead, then, O Lord, give her soul peace in Thy Kingdom, wherein the just are at rest.”
The tramp bared his head with the scanty hair standing45 up like a brush on it, turned his eyes upward and crossed himself twice.
“Grant her, O Lord, a verdant46 and peaceful resting-place,” he said in a drawling voice, more like an old woman’s than a man’s. “Teach Thy servant Xenia Thy justifications47, O Lord! If it had not been for my beloved mamma I should have been a peasant with no sort of understanding! Now, young man, ask me about anything and I understand it all: the holy Scriptures48 and profane49 writings, and every prayer and catechism. I live according to the Scriptures. . . . I don’t injure anyone, I keep my flesh in purity and continence, I observe the fasts, I eat at fitting times. Another man will take no pleasure in anything but vodka and lewd50 talk, but when I have time I sit in a corner and read a book. I read and I weep and weep.”
“What do you weep for?”
“They write so patheticallyl For some books one gives but a five-kopeck piece, and yet one weeps and sighs exceedingly over it.”
“Is your father dead?” asked Ptaha.
“I don’t know, good man. I don’t know my parent; it is no use concealing it. I judge that I was mamma’s illegitimate son. My mamma lived all her life with the gentry, and did not want to marry a simple peasant. . . . ”
“And so she fell into the master’s hands,” laughed Ptaha.
“She did transgress51, that’s true. She was pious52, God-fearing, but she did not keep her maiden53 purity. It is a sin, of course, a great sin, there’s no doubt about it, but to make up for it there is, maybe, noble blood in me. Maybe I am only a peasant by class, but in nature a noble gentleman.”
The “noble gentleman” uttered all this in a soft, sugary tenor, wrinkling up his narrow forehead and emitting creaking sounds from his red, frozen little nose. Ptaha listened and looked askance at him in wonder, continually shrugging his shoulders.
After going nearly five miles the constables and the tramp sat down on a mound54 to rest.
“Even a dog knows his name,” Ptaha muttered. “My name is Andryushka, his is Nikandr; every man has his holy name, and it can’t be forgotten. Nohow.”
“Who has any need to know my name?” sighed the tramp, leaning his cheek on his fist. “And what advantage would it be to me if they did know it? If I were allowed to go where I would — but it would only make things worse. I know the law, Christian brothers. Now I am a tramp who doesn’t remember his name, and it’s the very most if they send me to Eastern Siberia and give me thirty or forty lashes55; but if I were to tell them my real name and description they would send me back to hard labour, I know!”
“Why, have you been a convict?”
“I have, dear friend. For four years I went about with my head shaved and fetters56 on my legs.”
“What for?”
“For murder, my good man! When I was still a boy of eighteen or so, my mamma accidentally poured arsenic57 instead of soda58 and acid into my master’s glass. There were boxes of all sorts in the storeroom, numbers of them; it was easy to make a mistake over them.”
The tramp sighed, shook his head, and said:
“She was a pious woman, but, who knows? another man’s soul is a slumbering59 forest! It may have been an accident, or maybe she could not endure the affront60 of seeing the master prefer another servant. . . . Perhaps she put it in on purpose, God knows! I was young then, and did not understand it all . . . now I remember that our master had taken another mistress and mamma was greatly disturbed. Our trial lasted nearly two years. . . . Mamma was condemned61 to penal62 servitude for twenty years, and I, on account of my youth, only to seven.”
“And why were you sentenced?”
“As an accomplice63. I handed the glass to the master. That was always the custom. Mamma prepared the soda and I handed it to him. Only I tell you all this as a Christian, brothers, as I would say it before God. Don’t you tell anybody. . . . ”
“Oh, nobody’s going to ask us,” said Ptaha. “So you’ve run away from prison, have you?”
“I have, dear friend. Fourteen of us ran away. Some folks, God bless them! ran away and took me with them. Now you tell me, on your conscience, good man, what reason have I to disclose my name? They will send me back to penal servitude, you know! And I am not fit for penal servitude! I am a refined man in delicate health. I like to sleep and eat in cleanliness. When I pray to God I like to light a little lamp or a candle, and not to have a noise around me. When I bow down to the ground I like the floor not to be dirty or spat64 upon. And I bow down forty times every morning and evening, praying for mamma.”
The tramp took off his cap and crossed himself.
“And let them send me to Eastern Siberia,” he said; “I am not afraid of that.”
“Surely that’s no better?”
“It is quite a different thing. In penal servitude you are like a crab65 in a basket: crowding, crushing, jostling, there’s no room to breathe; it’s downright hell — such hell, may the Queen of Heaven keep us from it! You are a robber and treated like a robber — worse than any dog. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat or even say your prayers. But it’s not like that in a settlement. In a settlement I shall be a member of a commune like other people. The authorities are bound by law to give me my share . . . ye-es! They say the land costs nothing, no more than snow; you can take what you like! They will give me corn land and building land and garden. . . . I shall plough my fields like other people, sow seed. I shall have cattle and stock of all sorts, bees, sheep, and dogs. . . . A Siberian cat, that rats and mice may not devour66 my goods. . . . I will put up a house, I shall buy ikons. . . . Please God, I’ll get married, I shall have children. . . . ”
The tramp muttered and looked, not at his listeners, but away into the distance. Naive as his dreams were, they were uttered in such a genuine and heartfelt tone that it was difficult not to believe in them. The tramp’s little mouth was screwed up in a smile. His eyes and little nose and his whole face were fixed67 and blank with blissful anticipation68 of happiness in the distant future. The constables listened and looked at him gravely, not without sympathy. They, too, believed in his dreams.
“I am not afraid of Siberia,” the tramp went on muttering. “Siberia is just as much Russia and has the same God and Tsar as here. They are just as orthodox Christians69 as you and I. Only there is more freedom there and people are better off. Everything is better there. Take the rivers there, for instance; they are far better than those here. There’s no end of fish; and all sorts of wild fowl70. And my greatest pleasure, brothers, is fishing. Give me no bread to eat, but let me sit with a fishhook. Yes, indeed! I fish with a hook and with a wire line, and set creels, and when the ice comes I catch with a net. I am not strong to draw up the net, so I shall hire a man for five kopecks. And, Lord, what a pleasure it is! You catch an eel-pout or a roach of some sort and are as pleased as though you had met your own brother. And would you believe it, there’s a special art for every fish: you catch one with a live bait, you catch another with a grub, the third with a frog or a grasshopper71. One has to understand all that, of course! For example, take the eel-pout. It is not a delicate fish — it will take a perch72; and a pike loves a gudgeon, the shilishper likes a butterfly. If you fish for a roach in a rapid stream there is no greater pleasure. You throw the line of seventy feet without lead, with a butterfly or a beetle73, so that the bait floats on the surface; you stand in the water without your trousers and let it go with the current, and tug74! the roach pulls at it! Only you have got to be artful that he doesn’t carry off the b ait, the damned rascal75. As soon as he tugs76 at your line you must whip it up; it’s no good waiting. It’s wonderful what a lot of fish I’ve caught in my time. When we were running away the other convicts would sleep in the forest; I could not sleep, but I was off to the river. The rivers there are wide and rapid, the banks are steep — awfully77! It’s all slumbering forests on the bank. The trees are so tall that if you look to the top it makes you dizzy. Every pine would be worth ten roubles by the prices here.”
In the overwhelming rush of his fancies, of artistic78 images of the past and sweet presentiments79 of happiness in the future, the poor wretch24 sank into silence, merely moving his lips as though whispering to himself. The vacant, blissful smile never left his lips. The constables were silent. They were pondering with bent heads. In the autumn stillness, when the cold, sullen80 mist that rises from the earth lies like a weight on the heart, when it stands like a prison wall before the eyes, and reminds man of the limitation of his freedom, it is sweet to think of the broad, rapid rivers, with steep banks wild and luxuriant, of the impenetrable forests, of the boundless81 steppes. Slowly and quietly the fancy pictures how early in the morning, before the flush of dawn has left the sky, a man makes his way along the steep deserted82 bank like a tiny speck83: the ancient, mast-like pines rise up in terraces on both sides of the torrent84, gaze sternly at the free man and murmur85 menacingly; rocks, huge stones, and thorny86 bushes bar his way, but he is strong in body and bold in spirit, and has no fear of the pine-trees, nor stones, nor of his solitude87, nor of the reverberating88 echo which repeats the sound of every footstep that he takes.
The peasants called up a picture of a free life such as they had never lived; whether they vaguely89 recalled the images of stories heard long ago or whether notions of a free life had been handed down to them with their flesh and blood from far-off free ancestors, God knows!
The first to break the silence was Nikandr Sapozhnikov, who had not till then let fall a single word. Whether he envied the tramp’s transparent90 happiness, or whether he felt in his heart that dreams of happiness were out of keeping with the grey fog and the dirty brown mud — anyway, he looked sternly at the tramp and said:
“It’s all very well, to be sure, only you won’t reach those plenteous regions, brother. How could you? Before you’d gone two hundred miles you’d give up your soul to God. Just look what a weakling you are! Here you’ve hardly gone five miles and you can’t get your breath.”
The tramp turned slowly toward Nikandr, and the blissful smile vanished from his face. He looked with a scared and guilty air at the peasant’s staid face, apparently remembered something, and bent his head. A silence followed again. . . . All three were pondering. The peasants were racking their brains in the effort to grasp in their imagination what can be grasped by none but God — that is, the vast expanse dividing them from the land of freedom. Into the tramp’s mind thronged91 clear and distinct pictures more terrible than that expanse. Before him rose vividly92 the picture of the long legal delays and procrastinations, the temporary and permanent prisons, the convict boats, the wearisome stoppages on the way, the frozen winters, illnesses, deaths of companions. . . .
The tramp blinked guiltily, wiped the tiny drops of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, drew a deep breath as though he had just leapt out of a very hot bath, then wiped his forehead with the other sleeve and looked round fearfully.
“That’s true; you won’t get there!” Ptaha agreed. “You are not much of a walker! Look at you — nothing but skin and bone! You’ll die, brother!”
“Of course he’ll die! What could he do?” said Nikandr. “He’s fit for the hospital now. . . . For sure!”
The man who had forgotten his name looked at the stern, unconcerned faces of his sinister93 companions, and without taking off his cap, hurriedly crossed himself, staring with wide-open eyes. . . . He trembled, his head shook, and he began twitching94 all over, like a caterpillar95 when it is stepped upon. . . .
“Well, it’s time to go,” said Nikandr, getting up; “we’ve had a rest.”
A minute later they were stepping along the muddy road. The tramp was more bent than ever, and he thrust his hands further up his sleeves. Ptaha was silent.
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1
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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12
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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parable
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| n.寓言，比喻 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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milestone
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| n.里程碑；划时代的事件 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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quails
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| 鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 )； 鹌鹑肉 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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sedateness
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| n.安详，镇静 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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42
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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43
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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44
instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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46
verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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47
justifications
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| 正当的理由，辩解的理由( justification的名词复数 ) | |
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48
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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49
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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50
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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51
transgress
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| vt.违反，逾越 | |
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52
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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53
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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54
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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55
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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56
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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59
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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